Strike that from the Record

Posted on March 31, 2012 by Joy

I must confess, I say things at times that I immediately want to retract as they are streaming from my mouth.

The world seems to move in slow motion and it’s as if I can see the words leaving my lips and slapping the recipient in the face.

“Nooooooooooooooo!”

Too late! It’s already out there. Whether I meant to say it or not, despite the wrongdoings that sparked my fiery tongue, words have landed and made an impression. Whether they take root or wither is accordingly to how the person process’. I am not responsible for the way my words are received. I am responsible for the delivery. Yikes!

Do you have any experience with this? I have been thinking about it quite a bit recently as it was brought to my attention that I had said something in a way that it was never intended. I apologized swiftly, analyzed it for several days, made a plan to keep it from happening again and moved on.

It wasn’t too long after that I found myself listening to a juicy bit of gossip. Before I even knew what was happening, I was participating. We women, especially, have to resist the temptation to disguise gossip as “Prayer requests” or concern in the form of, “Bless ‘er heart! Did you hear what happened to…”

What about phrases we say daily? Those weighty statements we don’t even consider? I knew you would want a few examples, so here they are…

“Are you really going to wear that?!”
“You’re ridiculous!”
“What’s you’re problem?!”
“Do your ears work?!”
“You’re crazy!”
“You’re driving me nuts!”
“That is the dumbest idea! It will never work!”
“You are always late.”
“That’s just the way you are. I’ve learned to work with it.”
“Have you ever come up with an original idea or do you always have to take credit for those you steal from others?”
“You don’t have a creative bone in your body!”
“You’re useless!”

Several of these may seem extreme while others are written off as sarcasm. What if we took 2 seconds to think about what we were going to say before we interjected it into someone’s day?

Proverbs 18:21 says, “Words kill, words give life; they’re either poison or fruit—you choose.” It’s a choice, is it not? Much like everything else that has a positive and negative side. Even if you’re not a bible-thumper, you can recognize truth when you see it.

Let’s have some fun! I have copied the negative statements above and replaced the words that wound.
~~“Are you really going to wear that?!”~~ “You looked so great in that black shirt you wore the other day! Why don’t you throw on some jeans and wedges with that top?”
~~“You’re ridiculous!”~~ “You are being so silly!”
~~“What’s you’re problem?!”~~ “Is everything okay? Is there anything I can do for you?”
~~“Do your ears work?!”~~ “Did you hear me?”
~~“You’re crazy!”~~ “You’re one of a kind!”
~~“You’re driving me nuts!”~~ “I need some quiet time for a few minutes.”
~~“That is the dumbest idea! It will never work!”~~ “I see where you’re coming from. Maybe we can look at it another way as well? Have you thought about this?”
~~“You are always late.”~~ “It’s tough getting to these early morning meetings, isn’t it? Maybe it would help to get up a few minutes earlier?”
~~“That’s just the way you are. I’ve learned to work with it.”~~ “What do you think about this approach? Sometimes it’s beneficial to try something new.”
~~“Have you ever come up with an original idea or do you always have to take credit for those you steal from others?”~~ “That is another great idea! How in the world did you come up with that?! Wow!”
~~“You don’t have a creative bone in your body!”~~ “You are so great at organization. Maybe you could share some of your secrets for keeping all of those files straight.”
~~“You’re useless!”~~ “Do you feel like your talents are being utilized in this current role? I want you to be in a position to thrive.”
(If you came up with better responses, stop laughing at mine and share yours in the comments section.)

So, here is my challenge to you and to me. For the next 7 days, before uttering a word to anyone, take 2 seconds to ask yourself, “Is it Kind?” “Is it True?” “Is it Helpful?” If the answer is not a resounding “YES!” to all of these, don’t say it.

Do you think you can do it? I hope I can!

(Images courtesy of google)

Whatcha got in that U-Haul?

Posted on March 25, 2012 by Joy

“Oh, don’t mind that, it’s just my spiritual baggage.”

I grew up going to church in a beautiful building with big white columns, ornate wooden benches, organ pipes floor to ceiling and a beautifully decorated soapbox called a podium where the minister in the long black robe stood.

I knew my catechism each week and would stand proudly in a handmade smocked dress as I recited them to the Sunday school class, annunciating the answers while smiling at the teacher. Manipulation at it’s best.

On Sunday evening, looking out the back window at that monstrous building, I would say, “See ya on Wednesday, God!”

I suppose I should mention that my dad was a preacher. Not the kind that has a church, but one that travels around speaking. Dad knew what was up and was more of a seeker than an organizer. What I mean by that is, there are those who seek Christ and there are those who organize religion. He is a seeker.

We would travel all summer to different conferences where he was speaking. Even as a very young child I can remember feeling a completely different presence in the auditoriums than what was felt in that big white building with the steeple on top.

I could not recite a catechism today if my life depended on it. Which begs the question, “Why did I spend all of that time learning Christian precepts instead of discovering who God really is? As anyone who has begun that pursuit knows, it takes a lifetime.

Well…because…I saw it as something else to check off my “see what a good christian I am?!” list. We “Christians” tend to do that. We put God on our “ways I get to heaven” to-do list along with things like, “Build up the courage to talk to that guy with all the tattoo’s. I could probably get bonus points for saving someone who has marked their body!” Or “Find a person who is living in a known sin and pretend to care long enough to ‘save’ them.”

Unfortunately many of us grew up with religious to-do lists, attending a church that was beautiful to look at, but left us starving spiritually.

What do we do with all of that? We put it in our “spiritual baggage” UHaul and take it with us into every relationship, every experience, every new perception of Jesus.

God doesn’t wait for me to show up on Sunday. He is wherever I am (and I have been in some pretty questionable places). I won’t find Jesus standing outside a building with a perfectly manicured lawn telling the homeless man, “We don’t need ‘your kind’ here.”

If you are like I was, hauling a bunch of misconceptions around everywhere you go, find the nearest cliff and throw it down, set it on fire, submerge it in the ocean, but don’t keep hauling it around. You don’t have to unpack it and sort through the reasons why. Just rid yourself of it and set out on your journey. You may be surprised who you meet along the way.

The Ultimate Exchange

Posted on March 8, 2012 by Joy

As human beings, we want to be heard, noticed and affirmed. We want to know that we matter. There are multiple opportunities throughout the day to connect with strangers in a way that says, “I understand.” without using words.

At times I am blind to those right in front me… within arms reach. When I begin to view myself through the distorted lens of my ego, I will quickly think myself “better than.” I must thoroughly and swiftly diffuse this misconception.

When I come to the end of myself is when my eyes are opened and I can readily relate to the pain of another. “God, open my eyes to see what you see.”

By asking God to direct my thinking, the simple, seemingly mundane, happenings throughout the day take on new form. Instead of judgement, I can see myself…

~ In the eyes of the elderly lady in the check out line trying to separate her coupons one by one with shaking hands, as the line behind her grows longer and the faces appear more agitated while the exaggerated sighs confirm disapproval.
~ In the little boy on the corner awkwardly waiting alone for his bus.
~ In the driver with aggravated hands in the air and a marred expression on her face, showing her disdain for the fact that the person in front of her is turning left when she needs to go straight.
~ In the expression of the little girl, just scolded by her mother, with tears running down her cheeks.
~ In the suit walking across the street falsely exuding the confidence that he so desperately wishes he had.
~ In the cashier at the deli with diamond earrings too big to be real, red fingernails and enough makeup to think she’s hiding how desperately she wants someone to see her for who she really is.
~ In the lady pumping $4.39 worth of gas into her car, praying that it’s enough to last at least a couple of days.

Throughout my day, I am capable of relating, encouraging and projecting light onto others. Isn’t that what God called me to do as a follower of Christ? After all, it wasn’t that long ago when I was the one sending silent screams of desperation to anyone who would notice.

I assess my day on the drive home. What could I have done better? Where could I have chosen compassion? How will I live tomorrow differently?

On this particular day, my heart is heavy and my thoughts are many. I pull into the garage, walk into the house, slip my shoes off at the door and head up the stairs.

There it is.

I pick it up and run my finger along the intricate work in the beautiful silver adorning the wood. I can remember when I saved enough money to buy this cross. I had been eyeing it for weeks.

Today, I see myself in it as well.

This cross was bought with a price. I cherish it. It is strategically placed in a part of our room where I see it multiple times a day. A visual reminder of the beautiful gift that Christ gave, in giving His life for mine all those years ago and then saving me again not so very long ago.

It all comes back to the cross.

As I rest the beautiful symbol back in it’s place, I smile, exhale, and bask in the eternal security of the ultimate sacrifice of my Savior. His crucifixion on a cross (made from a tree that His Father created), stained with His blood (that sanctifies my sin), displaying His body (naked and vulnerable), beaten beyond recognition… for me… and for all of those I see throughout the day, coming and going.

We were all bought with a price, much too high for my earthly mind to comprehend. Imagine the possibilities if we were able to fully absorb and then exemplify to others the meaning of the cross.

It changes everything.

Cinda-who? A different kind of Princess.

Posted on February 25, 2012 by Joy

Ask any child who Cinderella is and they will most assuredly know.

When asking my 3 yr. old son if he knew who Cinderella was, he said, “Ewwwww. I don’t like Cinderella.” I would say that’s right on track with where he needs to be. Like her or not, he knows who she is.

The other day on my drive home, the song “Cinderella” by Steven Curtis Chapman came on. I have heard this song many times with goosebumps covering my arms, while envisioning a little girl standing on her daddy’s feet as he dances her around.

This time was different. The tears began streaming down my face. I literally said out loud, “What is wrong with me?! This is ridiculous! Dry it up!”

I have been thinking about it ever since. Singing the lyrics over and over in my mind. “I will dance with Cinderella, while she is here in my arms, ‘Cause I know something the prince never knew…” Each time, I feel the lump well up in my throat.

When I finally took the time to sit down and start writing, clarity was found.

How many of us aspired to be a princess? Not just any princess. THE Princess. Cinderella. Nothing sounded better than being rescued from a life of chores and mean sisters. Throw in a personal fairy godmother, a makeover, a prince, a happily ever after and most of all, being able to say, “Shove it!” to the wicked stepmother and we have ourselves a fairytale.

And then something went wrong.

It wasn’t that we had brown hair instead of blond or that we didn’t have a stepmother or stepsisters to fit the story. It was that some of us took a different path. We thought that after enjoying adventure and having more “fun” we could come back and cross the finish line of life, as a Cinderella.

I haven’t read the story of Cinderella in quite some time, but from all the times I have read it in the past, I don’t recall the part where she cusses out the bartender when he yells “last call.” Or cuts marks on her body as a painful reminder that she’s real. Or where she sticks her fingers down her throat until she pukes everything that she had just binged so that she can eat more and keep stuffing those feelings down while maintaining the illusion of control. I don’t remember where she gives herself away to those who’s name she can’t even remember? Or where she stands before the full length mirror, a skin cloaked skeleton, scrutinizing every inch of her body.

Those pages must have been missing from the book.

For many of us, they are the most prevalent. Those descriptions mark a part in our story where everything changed. Shame became a constant companion. The reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable.

The realization came that there would be no horse-drawn carriage to take us to the ball. There was no army frantically searching the land to find the foot that fit the glass slipper (our foot), while the prince pines away back at the castle awaiting the return of his true love.

“Who’s ever heard of glass shoes anyway?!”

None of us dreamed of being addicts or alcoholics, prostitutes or strippers, a teenage mother or a 20-something divorcee.

We all had similar dreams. So what happened?

Well, when I was 12…
When he…
When she…
We all have our _____________ to fill.
Our story to tell.

It doesn’t matter the details of destruction. All that matters is from today… from this moment… how the story ends.

May I paint a mental picture for you, Beautiful One?
We aren’t waiting for the prince.
There is no clock to strike midnight and strip us of our dreams.

The King Himself prepares a place for us. The Creator of the heavens, waits for us. He beckons us. He eagerly awaits eternity with us. I don’t know how your story reads up to now, but I know how it can end.

You are a Precious Treasure, Favored, Adored by the Creator of heaven and earth.
Don’t give up, Darling.
Keep going.
It is in those times of weariness that we must listen for His whisper and embrace the anticipation of one day being His bride.

There is no better “ever after.”

*Photos taken from google

I have a confession to make

Posted on February 24, 2012 by Joy

I am a believer and follower of Christ.

I have never exercised the discipline of giving up an indulgence in

recognition of the days leading up to my Saviors last days on earth (Lent).

When praying about my character defects and having the willingness to relinquish them,
the following came to me rather quickly.

1. I indulge myself in the approval of others.

2. I don’t pray very well. and

3. I want to see beauty in my physical imperfections,

accepting that there is no such thing as perfection on this earth.

So, here it is.

My simple prayer asking my Savior to strip me of ego

as I meet Him in the stillness that only He can provide.

My youngest at 2 years old

“Father, please teach me how to pray.

Please forgive me when I insult the work of Your hands.
Please forgive my foolish pride that longs for the approval of others.
That which does not satisfy and is quickly fleeting.
May all that I am and all that I know come from You, my Creator.I want to see the masterpiece.
Please show me, in a tangible way, what I am to You.

May I rest in Your arms, like a child with his mother, safe, peaceful and at one.
May I trust that what You say in Your word is true
and Father, when I doubt,
please quickly redirect my thinking.

I am but a weak and feeble version of Your splendor.
Help me remember that I am a child of the King

and one day I will shed this earthly suit.
That which will replace it is something that my mind cannot comprehend,
but I know that it will be my first encounter with perfection.Lord, while on this earth,

please use me up for Your glory

and may all of the credit be Yours as an example of

Your unwavering faithfulness, mercy and love.”
In Your name I pray…
Amen

What If…this could change your life?

Posted on February 22, 2012 by Joy

I hear this phrase, sometimes several times a day, usually followed by something catastrophic. I can’t help but wonder how these two little words got such a bad rap?

“What if” we shifted our thinking and instead of harping on the negative aspect of “What if?” We dwell in the positive? Instead of this phrase being said in the context of what we might lose, why not use it in the context of what we could gain?

What If…
I stopped focusing on changing the world and instead opened my eyes to the needs right in front of me?

What If…
I stopped complaining long enough to recognize all of the blessings around me. Especially the ones that don’t come neatly wrapped with a beautiful bow?

What If…
I started praying for the person who evokes anger at the mere mention of their name?

What If…
I started looking at the parts of my body I have always unjustly scrutinized and began appreciating their function everyday.

What If…
Instead of marinating in negative self talk (that no one hears but me), I meditated on 4 words, “I Am God’s Masterpiece.”

What If…
I started taking responsibility for how I deliver my words and letting go of how it is received?

What If…
I looked in the mirror every day, completely naked and said (out loud) “I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking! Body and soul, I am marvelously made! I worship in adoration—what a creation!” Psalm 139

What If…
I stopped asking “why” (things are the way they are) and instead asked “how” (am I going to make a positive impact with what I’ve been given?)

What If…
I stopped calling my gossip circle a “prayer group”?

What If…
I asked God what He thinks of me and embraced it, instead of craving the approval of strangers?

What If…
Instead of cluttering our house with more “stuff” we sponsored a family less fortunate than we?

What If…
I didn’t worry?

What If…
I trusted God as much as I say I do?

What If…
I stopped criticizing the people and things that I don’t understand?

What If…
I was fully present in the moment?

What If…
I believed that all scripture was pertinent to my life and stopped focusing only on the verses that made me feel good and promised a happy ending?

What If…
I thought the best before believing the worst?

What If…
I embraced God’s plan for my life instead of blazing my own trail?

What If…
I looked forward to heaven instead of investing so much time and energy into the temporary pleasures of this world?

Are you feelin’ me on this? ‘Cause I could go on and on.

It’s all about transforming the mind. Before we take one step, it starts between our ears. Yes?

Are you a “What If-er”? What’s your biggest “What if” that’s holding you back?

Hurry up and Wait…

Posted on February 20, 2012 by Joy

As I sit in this waiting room of only women, In a sea of blue cotton robes, with the “opening in the front” (of course), I cannot help but look around, observe and judge.

Yes, I said it, JUDGE.

“But I didn’t think Christians were supposed to do that?” you say.

When one becomes a follower of Christ, one does not cease being human.

With each name called that isn’t mine I want to charge up to the front desk and say, “I can’t wait any longer! I have things to do today! (Like sitting around in my pajamas. It’s my day off! My ‘Nobody tell me what to do’ day.)”

Of course I don’t do that, do I?

Nope! This appointment has been on the calendar for 6 months. I’m not just going to walk out now! No way. I’ll show them and stay another hour if I have too!

Wait…what?

My inner monologue is suddenly interrupted by the familiar sound of a chip bag opening. “Oh, I’m so hungry. Why didn’t I bring a snack?!” “Duh, because they are going to weigh me!” (Clearly still deceived by the notion that I will weigh less having not eaten today. I don’t mean a few ounces less, I mean 10 lbs.)

So…here I am…waiting. As I have been for the last 82 minutes.

I can’t tell if the woman beside me has an issue with her jaw or is popping gum. It’s really loud. Really. Loud.

Oh good, now she’s taking a call on her cell. The popping is replaced by her inquiries about dry cleaning and whether or not her dog has been walked and if it had pooped or peed on the walk because, that’s important. (What part of the sign “NO CELLPHONES” does she not understand?!)

The nurse emerges and calls her back. “Thank the Lord in heaven!” (is my extremely loud thought.)

As I continue an inner monologue about how I would never be as obnoxious as this woman, a word in a conversation to my right catches my attention.

Metastasized.

That’s the word. The one word that snapped me out of my self righteous, internal ranting.

There were 5 ladies, strangers from what I could tell, sharing their stories. For the young woman who had just been diagnosed, she was asking the other woman who had been cancer free since 2009, what to expect.

“What kind of pajamas do they allow in the hospital?”
“Will I lose my hair?”
“How long does chemo take?”
“Does everyone throw up after?”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“What stage was yours?”
“Did you have radiation?”
“Do you drink regular milk or organic?”

The older woman was compassionate in her answers.

I don’t have cancer.

I don’t know the answer to any of her questions. I am here, as I will be every 6 months for the rest of my life because I am “high risk.” Female cancer dominates both sides of my family. I am no stranger to the word metastasized, as that word alone awakens many feelings that have been silent until several months ago when it became a reality again with the news of my beautiful friend, now fighting for her life against a relentless form of ovarian cancer.

I actually made it a priority to schedule my annual appointment with my gyno because of her. He insisted that I have the genetic testing done to see if I carried the cancer gene. He called with the results. All tests were negative. I do not carry the gene.

So why am I sitting here. Why will I spend half of my day off, sitting here with strangers, when I could be with my boys?

Fear?

Prevention?

Is there really a difference between the two?

Regardless, here I am. Waiting…

I’m guessing that the young girl asking all the questions is in the fear stage. I can’t say that for sure and now I’m judging again. (Why am I acting so priggish?!) If anything I should be falling down before the Father in praise several times a day that I emerged from the darkness in which I was living, relatively unscathed.

However, here I sit. Annoyed by the smallest of things. Remember my motto…”Progress not Perfection.” Some days (like today), progress is even a stretch.

The lady beside me takes out her emory board to file her nails. (Insert inner scream here). Noooooooooooo! Forget the sound! What makes her think I want to breathe in her fingernail dust? And there’s no escaping it! Its flying everywhere.

The door opens, here comes the nurse, she’s calling my name.

Clarification: There are few things in this life that I can say with all of the passion I can muster that I detest. Cancer is one of those things. It is a devil of sorts. Often times it is silent in its deadly pursuit until its victim is left ravaged and face to face with death. I am in no way trying to make light of this disease in this post. I am simply giving you, the reader, a glimpse in to my perception, warped as it may be at times. Usually, for me, this all points back to fear. Thankfully I have been given the tools to face it and move on. I feel beyond blessed to only be going in for rechecks. I am on the maintenance plan while many are fighting for their life.